He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled an envelope from inside his jacket—thick, cream-colored, sealed.
“She wrote this after she knew she was dying. She told him to hold onto it until the right moment.”
My gaze fixed on the envelope.
“What’s inside?”
“The truth about Dad.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Dad stayed. He cared for her. He was there every day.”
“That’s what she believed too,” my brother said softly.
“Read it,” I whispered.
“I can’t. Not here. Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because once you know, there’s no going back.”
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